


Breach the Heart

by Verti



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: F/F, Hitman!Ja'far, Modern AU, eventually lots of screaming and feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:45:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8745412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verti/pseuds/Verti
Summary: There's not a lot of precautions you can take when your girlfriend is a hitman. Especially when you, uh, don't know she's one in the first place.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to themarkerfairy (aka Ryan) for ideas and dealing with my gayness in general hehe

It’s just her luck that Sinbad was assigned to the longest-running cold case in her department.

And it’s really just her luck that even though she cracks it after two months of laying low and searching, Sinbad still somehow finds herself caught in a solo gunfight with the criminal drug dealers and felons in question.

Admittedly, she’d have no trouble taking down one with the single pistol she has in hand right now— one shot in the leg to distract, use the split-second confusion to get up close and disarm, and then maybe a knee to the groin or an elbow jab to the throat to subdue. 

The problem is, there are _two_ of them, both armed with subsequently more than just one handgun, and both of whom are steadily pumping the side of the car she’s hiding behind full of lead.

“Requesting back up,” Sinbad yells into her radio over the sound of gunfire. She curses when a gunshot shatters the windshield above her head, the broken glass just barely missing her. “Uh, 343 Dispatch, I have a Code 19 here, requesting armed troops for back up—goddamnit, Drakon! Answer!” 

She peers out when the gunmen stop to reload, firing two more shots from her handgun and ducks back behind the battered car. “I have two gunmen opening fire in an alleyway on 31st Street, outnumbered and running out of ammo quick, all troops nearby please-!” 

Sinbad cuts off as sudden thunder shakes the alley, the loud sound accompanied by the dull thud of a body hitting the ground and the perplexed yells of his companion. She’s about to counter attack, take down the other one amidst the confusion before the alley is filled with another blast of thunder, and then almost immediately followed by a groan of pain and the sound of another body dropping. Sinbad winces at the brutality of the shots and steps out from behind the shield, her gun clutched in her hands as a precaution. She nudges at the nearest one with her foot, only to find that he’s been done through neatly—a single bullet clean through the back of his head and the space between his eyes. 

“Wait.” Sinbad stands and turns towards where she assumes they fired from, just in time to see a hooded figure step back from the rooftop ledge of a nearby tenement.

The person glances back over their shoulder and, seeing Sinbad looking straight at them, takes off immediately. They make their way across the rooftops, vaulting over weather vanes and leaping with relative ease across the large gaps between each building while Sinbad gives pursuit.

“Wait up! Oi!” Sinbad nearly trips over a few trashcans in her hurry to catch up, craning her head upwards in hopes of getting a closer look at the assailant. “Hey! I’m not going to hurt you or anything, okay?”

The hooded person-- Sinbad can by now tell it’s a girl, or at least she thinks so, judging from the lithe form that the long dust-colored cloak clings to in the wind and the smooth, almost unnatural flexibility she exhibits with every stride and somersault that no man living should be able to execute so gracefully-- skids to a stop when she reach a wire fence too tall to scale immediately, giving her enough time to catch up.

“God, you run fast.”

The girl tilts her head to stare at Sinbad, and she can feel the dark eyes of the hit man (hit woman?) boring invisible bullets into her head. She holds up her arms in mock surrender. “Okay, I get it. Not a fan of talking. Just wanted to say you killed off one of the guys I was supposed to take in and that’s gonna take some out of my paycheck.”

Sinbad shrugs when there’s no reply again and eyes the bulge in the long tatty cloth draped around the girl’s body in case she decides to draw her rifle.

“But since you kind of saved me from a tight spot, I’ll let it slide for now. You could have waited until I was gunned down, but you didn’t, so thanks.”

“… жалкая.”

“Sorry, what was that?”

The girl fidgets, obviously agitated and impatient before she repeats herself again in heavily accented English. “Pathetic.”

“Okay. I get that a lot. Well, not as much as whore or bimbo, but it’s pretty high on the list.”

“You are terrible shot.” 

Sinbad frowns and folds her arms, “That’s not very nice, I was trying my best. But again, I’ve heard worse. Why did you kill him? You could have just injured him and let the police take care of it.”

“None of your business.”

“Pardon?”

“Fuck off, сука.”

“Why are you so mean,” Sinbad whines and kicks at the dirt. “I said I wasn’t going to do anything to you! Just want to know a few answers. Who’s your client?”

The girl stands back, looking around for any other possible exit. “Why should I tell someone who looks like purple turnip.”

Sinbad blinks, “Huh. Never heard that one before. Is it because of the cowlick sticking out of my helmet?”

She gets a curt acknowledgement and continues. “So what’s a hitman like you doing here?” She nods at the girl’s deadpan look, “Got it. Stupid question. What about-” 

Sinbad catches a glimpse of pale hands as they reach into the cloak for their rifle, “Okay, okay! No more stupid questions that aren’t worth your time. No need to bring out the big guns, I know how good you are with them, and-” She breaks off again when she finds herself staring down- or rather, up- the barrel of a silver handgun. “Alright, you got me.”

“Speak again and I will make purple turnip borscht of you.”

“What’s borscht?” Sinbad can hear the moment the girl’s patience snaps, along with the gunshot as she pulls the trigger without hesitation. Sinbad throws herself out of the way, the bullet only managing to hit her in the shoulder just as Drakon and Sharrkan storm the alley way with a squad unit behind them. 

“Hello!” She yells at Drakon over the gunfire and waves her uninjured arm. “Took you long enough!”

The girl stares at Sin, fury twisting her features even as she fires back at the police officers. “You tricked me.”

“Nah. I asked you a few questions and you got distracted. So, your fault, not mine.” Sinbad grins up at her even as Drakon checks her for any wounds, already undoing the bulletproof vest bound tightly over her torso. “No boursc- borst?- for you today, sorry kid.”

“Fuck you.” She takes a few running steps and manages to get enough height on the fence to scale the rest of it and vault over.

Sinbad waves as the Russian chic vanishes from sight before allowing Drakon to pry her protective goggles and mask off. “Stop running off when you’re on patrol duty, you always get yourself in these sorts of messes.”

She grins at him, “I don’t know what you mean. That worked out pretty nicely, didn’t it? We got one of them and the other one’s out of commission for good.”

Drakon sighs and presses down on Sinbad’s shoulder, checking for anything broken. He frowns when she whines in pain. “And you also managed to get on a hitman’s bad side. You’re lucky that we arrived on scene in time or you would’ve been just as dead as that dealer.”

“But I’m not,” Sin points out. She squawks when Drakon sets her dislocated shoulder back in place without warning. “ _Ow_!”

“Had it coming.” Drakon mutters under his breath and holds out a hand to help Sinbad stand. “Get any information on them?

“I’m not an invalid, Drakon. It’s just a few bruises.” Sinbad takes his hand anyways and gets to her feet, brushing herself off and pulling her hair out of the tight bun it was in underneath her helmet. “Not as much as I would have liked. I was hoping you guys would arrive sooner to arrest her but she had a short temper anyways. Did you get a voice reading at least?”

“A few recordings, yes. We’ll look for suspects. Anything else?”

Sinbad sticks her tongue out at one of the bodies they walk past, “Didn’t see my face, I had a chance to grab my mask before I left. Heavy Russian accent, small figure, most likely in her twenties. Black eyes,” She adds with an afterthought. “Equipped with a handgun and a sniper rifle. Probably more weapons on her, she was pretty generous with her bullets.”

"Got it."

"Also had a really bad case of a potty mouth. She called me a purple turnip!" Sinbad tugs at her hair gingerly, trying to find any sort of resemblance to the root vegetable. "Drakon, I don't look like a purple turnip. I look fabulous. Tell me I don't look like a vegetable." 

"You look just as much like a vegetable as your hair looks fake."

Sinbad beams, pretending not to notice the slight towards her dyed hair. "So you mean 'not very'. I knew you'd come around." She elbows him in the waist, receiving a pointed glare for her efforts.

Drakon rolls his eyes. He opens the door of his police car and gestures for Sinbad to go in, jotting down the last of his notes. “Get in, Sinbad. You’re off duty for the day.”

“Whaat?” Sinbad pouts but slides in anyways and makes herself comfortable in the shotgun seat, “I said I’m fine. The only ones hurt are the dead ones.”

“You were part of a gunfight and had a near-death experience with a hitman. You’re in shock.”

“I’m not in shock. I’ll take the blanket though.” She makes grabby hands at the yellow cloth that is handed to her and snuggles into it, “Mmm. Warm. Ah, Drakon. Gimme.”

Drakon starts the car, not even bothering to glance at Sinbad. “First drawer.”

Sinbad paws open the drawer and beams at the sight of her large hoop earrings. “There they are!” She clips them on quickly and kicks her feet up on the front of the car. “God, I’ve missed them in the 12 hours we’ve been apart. My head feels too light without them. Can we stop for coffee?”

Drakon rolls his eyes and steps on the gas. “Why do I even bother with you. Seatbelt.”

“Because Saher likes me and you’re my department chief.”

“I honestly wish she wouldn’t,” Drakon grumbles. “It would save me a lot of time wasted on worrying about your recklessness and trying to stop you getting yourself killed.”

Sinbad pets at Drakon’s head, “You worry too much. I've come this far, and I'm not planning on losing my job and life any time soon.” 

"You might lose the former if you continue going against my orders." Drakon's eyes squint when they meet Sinbad's in the head mirror. "I told you to stop going after criminals by yourself, even if you did manage to crack the case. You're supposed to notify me so I can get a police unit together. Trying to work solo is only going to get you killed. Not to mention letting some of the prisoners go without an official notice."

"Please. You know just as well as I do that they didn't deserve to be convicted." Sinbad scoffs and folds her arms. "I'm not going to just sit on the side and watch as people are given unreasonable punishments for a small slip-up. This country's entire legislative system is flawed and geared towards the benefits of the predominant white male."

Drakon makes an exasperated sound at the back of his throat as he turns a corner, "I know. But if I keep on covering for you you'll be costing us both of our jobs."

Sinbad holds eye contact with Drakon in the mirror for a moment before she sighs and flops back against the seat, slouching down to get more comfortable. "Fine, I'll try to keep a cap on things." 

Even during his teenage years, Drakon had wanted a spot in the police department. Originally the haughty second son of a high-ranking politician, he looked to enter a different field than his older brother's and build his way up from there. Sinbad vaguely remembers their first meeting-- he had caught her scrawny fifteen year old self pickpocketing a businessman and buying a few loaves of bread with the money afterwards. Drakon had threatened to file a report and Sinbad responded by beaten him black and blue in a small alleyway behind the grocery store. She then offered him a loaf in compensation and all Drakon had for her ever since was respect and friendship. 

Drakon had later helped facilitate her entry into police academy upon his own admission, although Sinbad had at first seen it as a way to guarantee a filled belly on most days and better living conditions than the slums she had grown up in.

"Don't go running after that hitman either, by the way. You don't know where she's been and what she's seen, and you were lucky enough that she wasn't after you this time. We'll figure out what to do with her later." 

"She killed those two dealers." Sinbad shivers as she remembers the sudden gunshots that shook the entire alleyway and how easily the men were killed despite the obstacles and wire fence surrounding them from over a thousand meters away. She turns to look at Drakon, eyes bright and piercing. "You know that whoever ordered their deaths didn't want any information getting out."

Drakon is silent for a moment, his eyes fixated on the road. "The case is closed, Sinbad. Both suspects were killed in action. There was no hitman."

Sinbad sits up so suddenly that her seatbelt almost ends up garrotting her. "There's more to this case, Drakon! Anyone that has access to a hitman has to be a criminal organization. If we can find out why- or who, then maybe that can give us a lead on the rest of the cold cases we have!"

"Sit _back_ , Sinbad." Drakon doesn't spare her a glance. "We don't mess with hitmen until we have more information on them or their contractor. If she really did make two perfect shots like you said she did then we can only hope no one else hires her first-" 

Sinbad opens her mouth to protest and Drakon slams down on the brakes at a red light, jerking the both of them forwards. "- This is an order from your division head."

".... Fine."

The rest of the trip is mostly silent, with Sinbad keeping herself occupied by staring out the window and seeing how many ugly cars she can count on a street before the light switches to green. She perks up when Drakon pulls up to the drive-thru of a fast food chain and beams, "Aw, you big softie. Large iced coffee with cream and sugar please."

Drakon lets out a forlorn sigh and rolls down the car window to relay her order to the intercom. “Do you need me to pay as well?”

“Yeah. I’ll pay you back some time.”

“No you won’t.”

“Nah.” 

Sinbad laughs when Drakon grunts knowingly and takes her coffee from the cashier. She takes a long swig of caffeine and sticks her tongue out at him, “Come on, don’t make that face. I’ll pay you back as soon as I earn enough money to live comfortably without having to worry about rent or bills.” 

“Of course you will.” Drakon rolls his eyes. Sinbad busies herself with finishing her drink before the ice dilutes it too much and skimming through her Emails and text messages. The next time she looks up, the car is parked on the street in front of a cramped, dingy-looking tenement. 

Drakon watches as she struggles to undo her seatbelt with two full hands. “Please don’t go out drinking again after this. There’s a dinner that Saher and I have been planning for two months and I’m not gonna interrupt it by having to haul you out of a bar on the other side of town.”

“You know I can’t make any promises,” Sinbad manages to wiggle out of the strap and kicks the car door open. She steps out of the car and waves at him. “Tell Saher I said hi and compliment her dress for me!”

Drakon shakes his head and looks at her over his sunglasses. “Take care, Sinbad.”

“I know, I know.” Sinbad finishes the rest of her coffee with a loud slurp before tossing it into the trash can a few feet away. She smirks and wiggles her fingers in farewell as Drakon rolls up the car window. 

“I don’t plan on dying just yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading the fic i wrote to deal with my gay feels right now haha. more to come next chapter!


End file.
